


Another Night

by teaspurr



Category: Original characters - Fandom
Genre: M/M, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-03-20
Packaged: 2021-03-01 01:54:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 624
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23227414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teaspurr/pseuds/teaspurr
Summary: An alternate timeline short - 1993
Relationships: Charles Edwards/Harry Thompson
Kudos: 2





	Another Night

Minutes dragged into hours, and counting sheep could only even get Harrison so far. He laid in his bed, staring up at the ceiling, counting the cracks in the moulding as he tried to bore his brain into sleep - but nothing worked. His mind was playing the day over in a loop, recounting every glance and every touch shared between him and his fathers almost-boyfriend. It was… a weird situation. Charles was closer in age to Harry but was dating his father, kind of, and it left Harry a confused mess - especially because Harrison felt like Charles knew it too.

_It should have been them, right?_

Even simply recalling the way their knees brushed when they were sitting on the couch had the Melbournian’s stomach aflutter - but that wouldn’t at all compare to what he was about to hear.

Soft, airy moans from the next room; creeping through the plaster wall like the sweetest song, meant only for Harry’s ears.

He didn’t believe it at first, but one moan was followed by another, low and sweet and harmonic, and then a cuss. His accent. Even in a breathless whisper, Harry could hear it, and the sound alone sent shivers through his whole being.

He knew he shouldn’t. He knew it was weird… and wrong… but he was alone and his body was reacting faster than he could stop himself. It started with his hand resting on his stomach, ears attuned to the sound of bated breaths through the wall. Low and soft like angel sighs. Fingers inched lower, tickling the short hairs at his naval, daring to push past the elastic of his waistband. With a brush along the shaft, his own breath caught in his throat and Harry let gentle fingers tetter and touch and tease a moment before seizing himself in a tight grasp.

 _Slowly, slowly, slowly,_ his wrist rolled, moving in time with each heaven-sent sigh from the other room. He could picture it so easily; their bodies rocking together, kisses splaying along bare shoulders and necks, hands grasping at hair and fingers and skin. Harry hadn’t slept with a man yet, but God, he wanted too - and he wanted that man to be Charles.

His own airy moans escaped him, gentle pleas of release. He didn’t mean to be so loud, and he didn’t think about the consequences of being heard. He was already close, but after a weekend pent up with his family, that was no wonder.

He rolled onto his side, moaning into his pillow as he rutted the head of his cock against the mattress. He needed more. He could almost feel Charles’ hand on his, guiding his every stroke. He could almost feel those muffled moans against his neck, making his hair stand on end. He could picture the exact contortion of the Briton’s face with each breathless sound, wondering how he writhed so desperately against his own sheets.

Only one moan more and Harry came; spilling into his boxers and the palm of his hand. He panted, knowing he must have been heard, not having really tried to be quiet, and the thought alone left his stomach twisting more in that post-orgasm bliss. So close to the wall, he heard Charles’ own drawled out climax. Sweaty brow to the plaster, Harry started counting the seconds that he didn’t get up and do something - anything. He could imagine, walking into Charles’ room and turning that fantasy into a reality. He could imagine the kisses and touches and whispered words shared between them as he claimed the heart that should be his. But he didn’t. His body was heavy, his eyes closed, and before he knew, Harry was settling for all he ever would, just another dream.


End file.
